Kingdom
by Tokebi211
Summary: L:"I love you Naomi." Misora:"But I love Ray." Light:"Die! Die!" ... eep! sorry. ok. Real Summary: After a personal tragedy, Light embarks on a slightly different Kira odyssey. Death Note story with a medical twist! AU.
1. Prologue

Tokebi Production presents

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**Kingdom**

A Death Note _Fan_fiction

…………………………………………………

**Prologue**

…………………………………………………

A decrepit light fixture dangled from the ceiling of an interrogation room in the bowels of the NPA building, the harsh light illuminating the two figures sitting across a narrow folding desk on which a laptop lay open.

"_Agent Misora,_" a garbled voice from the computer broke the silence.

"_I understand you have information on Kira case that you wish to share with me_."

"Yes. I am… _was_… the fiancée of Agent Ray Penbar who was recently killed during his assignment. I believe you have known him; he was part of the Los Angeles BB murder investigation in 2001 under your command."

"_Yes. My condolences, agent._"

If she was bothered by a lack of compassion in the computerized voice, she gave no indication of it.

"To be brief, he became involved in a bus hijacking while following his suspect, a week before his death. The hijacker eventually jumped out of the bus, and was killed by an oncoming vehicle."

"_And the reason you suspect its relevance to Kira case?_"

"During the incident, he was compelled to show his ID to one of the passengers. I am aware that Kira is currently believed to be able to kill by knowing the victim's name and face. Ray believed the hijacking to be purely a coincidence. However, on the small chance that it wasn't, that the whole incident was somehow masterminded by Kira, then it reveals that…"

"_Kira can kill by other means than just heart attacks_."

"And he must be the passenger to whom Ray showed his ID."

She hesitated for a brief second before she continued.

"I have sent a request to my superiors for reinstatement as an agent to join the investigation here in Japan. You can verify my dossier with Director Fox Molloy of the FBI at its D.C. office. If you'd allow me to…"

"_I already have. Your security clearance is complete once I determine your reliability in person. You should know that most members from our initial assembly of team have left and those remaining are the ones willing to sacrifice…_"

"If it is the issue of safety and commitment you're concerned about," Misora's level voice interrupted, "Be assured I fully understand the risks.

"L," Unwavering eyes focused onto the gothic letter. "I'm yours to use. Consider me your _pawn_."

…………………………………………………………

'This woman…'

Alone in the darkness save for the eerie glow of his computer screen, L sat crouched in deep contemplation of the resolute eyes that penetrated the virtual distance as though they were looking straight at him in the flesh. The stark neutrality of her delicate features conveyed neither friendliness nor hostility. Only determination.

He leaned forward to the microphone once more.

"Come to Teito hotel at eleven o'clock tonight. Watari will meet you at the lobby."

...


	2. Affliction

**Chapter 1: Affliction**

'The riskiest move so far…'

The handsome youth in pressed school uniform with a book bag slung over one shoulder swayed in rhythm with clicking of the train along the rail that webbed over the city. The early December sunset cast a melancholy shade of red through the passing window and the hazel eyes glimmered with a golden tint in the light. He stood, oblivious to the poetic play of sunlight on his face and to the furtive glances from a few schoolgirls in the car, too absorbed in thoughts that did not belong in a seventeen-year-old's head.

'It will become dangerous if they manage to connect the bus hijacking to the deaths of FBI agents, but that's highly unlikely. No. Regardless, the Note is beyond anyone's imagination. Even if they suspect me, I'm safe as long as the existence of the Death Note remains unknown. Now that they know Kira won't hesitate to kill even non-criminals if necessary, they will be extremely cautious. I need to watch out.'

Downcast eyes looked up, softening as they took in a barren view of the industrial district on the outskirts of Tokyo, hushed under the setting sun. He closed his eyes, once again reminded of his destination, and felt the darkness swallow him up as the train dove underground toward the heart of metropolis.

His contemplative mood ended upon exiting the subway, his attention shifting to the mundane but critical task of avoiding accidental bumping or stumbling as he navigated through the crowded streets toward University Hospital.

An antiseptic smell and colorless walls greeted his senses as he walked into the building. Had it not been for the personal reason that brought him here, his orderly nature would have found its sterile ambience agreeable.

He willed his mind blank as he approached the colorful hallway of the pediatric ward, and offered a polite nod toward the nurses' station where a familiar face among the staff nodded back with a smile, indicating that it was all right to proceed. Her busy hand never stopped writing into a chart in front of her.

His feet continued in the direction they knew too well by repetition. He pushed the door open and entered.

"Hey, Ladybug."

"Light!"

Sayu's pale face lit up as her brother walked into the room before it scrunched into a pout.

"For the thousandth time, stop calling me a bug. Why do you keep calling me a bug?"

He approached the bed with a silly grin on his usually serious features, a carefree expression reserved for his little sister.

"'Cause you're tiny… and annoying," he said, giving her nose a playful pinch.

"Hey!" She wrinkled her nose and squirmed away, arms crossed on her chest. "You're mean."

"I can't help it. A ladybug is little and round like your face, its color is bright and pretty like you."

"You think so?" Sayu asked with a suspicious side-glance.

"I know so."

As Light sat down on a stool next to the bed, he noticed his mother stirring awake from the reclining chair that nurses had brought for the family.

"Mother, why don't you head home now? I'll stay with her tonight. You haven't left since yesterday."

"Oh I'm glad you're here, Light. I'm sure the chatterbox here would much prefer your company over some old lady," Sachiko joked, stretching her stiff limbs.

"You're not an old lady, Mama. Cheer up." Sayu quipped.

Their mother chuckled, rising from the chair. "Ok, Light, I'm just going to get some tea… Gosh, already six! Why don't I go cook a nice hot meal, and bring it for you two? I'm not sure whether your father will be back from work tonight, but he will come here directly if he is."

Once their mother gathered her things and left the room in the hurried manner of a busy housewife, Light claimed her more comfortable chair. He leaned back, crossing his legs, getting ready for the onslaught of chatter that was sure to come. One. Two. Three…

"Oh, look what Taro brought for me! He said everyone signed it except Hirono and Yoshimi, but I don't care. They're mean to everybody. I swear they worship the feet of that devil. I've told you about her, right? Mitsuko? She's an upperclassman but she's always hanging around terrorizing us, and I heard that…"

Light listened, nodded in the right places, laughed at the right moments as she chattered on and on about the most exciting universe of fifth grader class dynamics. His face wore a genuine smile, bereft of his usual shade of a sneer.

Light Yagami was not a disrespectful person. Anyone who knew him personally would not hesitate to vouch for his flawless manners and friendly demeanor. Only those with exceptionally keen senses were able to perceive the air of arrogance that overlaid his congenial exterior.

It could not be helped. He knew of his superiority.

As a baby, there was nothing exceptional about him, save for the bright, attentive eyes that studied everything with intense fascination. When he started talking, however, his parents realized he was no ordinary boy. After a brief period of babble typical of a baby, he started using the words that he heard from adults around him. His fast-expanding vocabulary generated embarrassed blushes on unsuspecting adults who approached him with silly baby talk.

The inhuman speed with which he learned alphabets, reading and writing, the way he soaked up knowledge induced awe in his proud parents and disbelieving teachers. During the half day he spent at school, he was bored out of his mind. He never complained, however, nor did he misbehave in class as bored smart kids often did. He did not want to burden his parents with the obligation to provide him with a higher level of education than that which public schools offered. Such was the magnitude of his untimely maturity.

He quickly discovered there were plenty of things to entertain himself with if he looked, without standing out, without making a fuss. Books were great. Then there were his father's case files, which he perused with a fascination that children's puzzle games had failed to grab. His father, Soichiro would never have allowed such files full of morbidity to fall into the hands of his young son, but he had no idea. Light had broken into his computer long ago, never leaving a trace.

Gruesome deaths and hideous crimes did not bother this young boy. Beneath the peach fuzz of adolescent skin, behind the handsome features of youth, there was nothing to scathe. There was no tenderness in the eyes that knew too much. He understood all the aspects of human lives, especially the ugliness.

Then his little sister was born.

At first, he approached the tiny doll-like creature with trepidation. Then he avoided the infant, fearing for his eardrums. When the incessant wailing became less frequent as she grew out of the primal nascence, his regard for his sibling began to change. He smiled a genuine smile when the little girl opened up her arms with urgency of her inexplicable wanting to be held by him. His heart fluttered with unfamiliar sense of warmth when she snuggled her little head against the nook of his neck, sucking on her thumb, the feather-soft toddler hair tickling his chin. Her pure, unrestrained laughter was a spring breeze that melted the frozen bud of his hardened soul.

Sayu was no angel. While the level of his genius was a bar too high for her to reach, she did share the gene for cunning and quick wits, often evidenced by her creative ways to squeeze a few hundred yen out of his wallet. But her shedding of infantile innocence as she matured did not loosen the emotional hold she had on him.

It took a lot to induce marvel in Light Yagami, but he felt just that whenever he observed his sister. Sayu had a natural, carefree attitude toward life without questioning or doubt, which seemed refreshing to her stoic brother. He felt awe when he realized that she knew of the darkness that resided in every human heart, and yet she still embraced it all, claiming "it was a part of the charm."

These two exceptional kids had shared many occasions of late-night conversations. Their parents could not have imagined the depth with which their children understood life. It was usually Sayu who first knocked on his door demanding his help on her math/science homework, and once he fulfilled the role of responsible elder sibling, it would be him inquiring about her day. And she seemed to understand his implicit demand: _Let me hear your voice. Show me your smile. Breathe fresh air into this stale, rotten world that is all I see around me._

Now the girl, the only person who prevented him from turning his back on all humankind in complete apathy, was flickering away, not too unlike the premature retirement of winter sun.

The diagnosis was a sudden strike of a merciless bludgeon upon all of their heads. Their disbelieving parents, too stunned and too afraid, did not object as an elaborate battle plan was devised and presented by an impressive array of pediatricians, oncologists, hematologists and immunologists. If anything, they were relieved by the aggressiveness with which those professionals were treating their daughter.

Light watched the ensuing frenzy in detachment, with his innate objective mind capable of maintaining a certain distance even in the dire situation where his cherished sister's life hung in the balance. He only watched without offering an opinion of his own, well knowing that it was not his place to interfere, that he was only a subordinate member of the family. He noted the subtle, gradual change in the attitude of the physician in charge as months progressed with endless cycle of chemo and lab results. He felt unprecedented disappointment at his parents' refusal to acknowledge the dismal odds.

Most acutely of all, he noted the young girl resigning her fate to the hands of adults, never complaining, never revealing her inner despair. She accepted the painful path laid out for her. She convinced herself of the love with which her parents begged her to endure. Light knew she did not believe a word of it. It was the sincerity of their desperate heart she believed, not their words of delusional hope.

Still he wondered if she was starting to find comfort in wishful thoughts, as she exhibited more fervent zeal in reclaiming the everyday joys of a normal schoolgirl, even though the days she could attend school were becoming less and less frequent.

"Brother…"

The plaintive voice forced Light's eyes to snap back into focus.

"Isn't your entrance exam next week?"

Exhausted of physical strength as well as of petty material to chat about, Sayu's small frame was buried in the haphazard heap of pillows propping up her torso, and her tired eyes looked into his with a hint of guilt that stung Light. He forced a smile with a casual wave of his hand.

"Don't worry about it. I'm prepared, as always."

Before he could continue and banish the apologetic look on his sister, their mother burst in with her practiced cheerfulness, her arms struggling with a load of plastic containers and a pair of thermoses. Suppressing the knot twisting within, Light joined in the pretense of normalcy as he helped his mother with laying out their dinner on the bedside table.

………………………………………………………

"Agent Shoko, I'm sure none of us would hold it against you if you'd rather step out."

Soichiro Yagami spoke in a gentle voice, jarring the heavy silence of the darkened room. Ryuzaki's cold gaze trained on the pair, but it did not faze the older man who had his hand placed on her shoulder with sympathetic eyes behind his glasses.

An invisible sigh of relief could be felt around the room. Their chief was speaking out the exact sentiment the other investigators were feeling. The discomfort from the unusual experience of having a female colleague was one thing. It was quite another when they were forced to stand by next to a person who was forced to watch the footage of her fiancé dying.

Ryuzaki's eyes did not dwell on them for long, returning back to the monitor without giving them further attention, but everyone else stole nervous glances at the woman.

"Thank you, Chief Yagami, but I'm fine."

She did not turn away from the monitor. Her intent eyes were fixed wide open, the dark brown swimming in the unusual moisture of the whites, but her voice remained steady.

Soichiro nodded, returning to his seat. It had been only a few days since the team was introduced to the newcomer. He knew it took some time for his men getting used to the eccentric detective, but it had been relatively easier to warm up to this FBI agent in spite of the tragic story the woman represented. While she did not go out of her way to build camaraderie, her polished and subdued personality with few rough edges was proving to be pleasant to work with in close proximity. He could tell Matsuda was already taken in by the new member from the way his puppy eyes overflowed with heartfelt sympathy, searching for ways to please the lady with frank eagerness.

It did bother him a little, knowing 'Maki Shoko' was an alias. He did not harbor any ill feelings, however. It only showed she was more cautious than they had been. All in all, he liked her.

It was only on a few occasions like this that the woman gave him chills, when her soft-spoken femininity lifted for a brief moment to reveal vengeful teeth grinding with bloodthirsty anticipation.

"Hold it."

All heads snapped up at Ryuzaki's sharp interruption. "Rewind five seconds back. Play frame by frame, please."

"Did you see something, Ryuzaki?" Eager Matsuda darted forth, staring into the monitor with renewed interest.

"There. He has an envelope when he walks into the train."

Aizawa's mouth hung open. "And it's no longer there when…"

The fuzzy image of Ray Penbar walked out of the train, grabbed his chest, and collapsed, the past replaying in slow motion in front of belated witnesses. Matsuda whipped his head around in the direction of Misora. She was a frozen statue, standing in the same spot, in the same way. Only her mouth moved, her voice barely a whisper.

"He's looking into the train."

"Wouldn't it be interesting if his killer were there?" Ryuzaki's noncommittal voice asked no one in particular.

"It will be a logistical nightmare to track down and investigate everyone we see in the train," Soichiro offered, hoping to sever the beginning of another stretched speculation.

Ryuzaki nodded. "Also, the camera doesn't cover every angle. The odds of success do not justify the amount of effort needed. However, we do have a suspect."

Soichiro shot up from his chair.

"Not this again, Ryuzaki! Didn't we decide zeroing on my son based on the account of bus hijacking was too much of a stretch?"

Ryuzaki's cool gaze met Soichiro's furious one.

"I don't recall we 'decided' anything, Mr. Yagami."

He did not take his eyes off the chief as he climbed out of his chair, and the popping noise of his protesting joints resounded through the nervous silence. He scanned the room, taking in the sight of bleary eyes and stooped shoulders of the tired investigators. On top of the heavy air of fatigue, the tension of disagreement was palpable, ready to snap with any provocation. He sighed.

"We'll stop here for now. Let us resume tomorrow morning with fresh perspective when everyone's rested. Thank you for staying overnight."

He disappeared out of the room without another glance.

……………………………………………………………..

When Watari announced Misora's return, Ryuzaki felt an uncharacteristic surge of temper, not liking the unexpected visit one bit. He did not bother to get up to the door when a knock came, opting for a curt "Come in" instead. He switched off the monitor where the frozen frame showing Penbar had remained, and swiveled his chair around as Misora came through the door.

She paused for a moment, noting the still flickering monitors save for one, and in the bluish glow, ghostly face of the detective who sat tucked into his chair that stood like a throne amid a disarray of machinery and paper stacks.

"You should be napping, agent," said the detective, without concern.

"So should you," she answered, without the amicable tint that colored her voice when she spoke to other investigators.

He had discovered in no time that Misora had a tendency to fling right back whatever the attitude she received. That was fine. It was good, actually. That meant he did not have to bite his sarcastic tongue with her. There was only so much politeness he could display.

He waited, knowing that she would get to the point sooner than later. Misora walked over to the table in the middle of the room, dropped a folder, and sat down on the sofa, waiting. Suppressing a groan, he extended one leg to the floor in order to roll the chair closer. He lifted the cover with a finger, peeking in. A medical record. He looked up with a frown.

"I already know of Sayu Yagami's condition."

"She's hospitalized again. I heard from Matsuda, and so I did some looking. The prognosis isn't good."

He thought he kept his face neutral but an impatient look of "So?" was visible to the observant Misora.

"You'll see a visitor's log in there, too. Light Yagami's spending most of his free time with his sister, rarely going home even at night."

"How touching."

"Ryuzaki," Exasperation almost showed in her voice. "Do you know this thing called tact?"

The intent gaze of an owl bored into her from beneath the messy strands. "Agent Misora, are you letting sympathy cloud your objectivity? I already find it frustrating to see private matters and feelings getting in the way of our work around here. I clearly misjudged you if you'd fall into the trap of victimhood."

"The reason I came here, actually, has nothing to do with Sayu or Light Yagami, or even me. It's about Chief."

The detective rested his chin on folded arms atop his knees. Misora went on, noticing but ignoring his reluctant patience.

"As you probably know – I hope – that man is under tremendous stress. Given the circumstances…"

"If he can't handle it, he doesn't belong here."

"Listen,"

Instead of heightened emotion, her voice had a quality of a mother consoling a petulant child. "I think I know. You're only tolerating a team effort because you need little worker bees for this case. The truth of the matter is, you need us and they need you. I need you. It's in everyone's best interest to maintain this alliance on friendly terms. It won't serve you well if you continue to rub them the wrong way."

She stood up to leave, and added as if an afterthought.

"No camera surveillance. I've heard of your obnoxious methods from Ray. As you can see, Light Yagami's either at school or hospital, and you can't place cameras in hospitals."

He lodged a thumbnail between his teeth in thought. When the door closed behind disappearing woman with a soft click, his mouth twitched into a one-sided pout.

……………………………………………………………..

The next morning's gathering had a considerable change in atmosphere, almost upbeat, reminiscent of the first time when the investigators stepped into L's hotel room with brave determination. They had caught up with sleep, which had been a luxury until then, and now they showed eagerness to move forward and put the previous day's uncomfortable mood behind. The exception was Soichiro Yagami; the dark circles under his eyes were threatening to outdo Ryuzaki's trademark.

"… and lastly, Hiroshi Takamura, age 58, convicted of murdering his wife in 1998. The cause of all deaths, heart attack." Matsuda finished listing the new deaths since their previous meeting.

"Things have returned to Kira's modus operandi after the FBI murders. Without any visible action from the authorities, the victims have been strictly convicted criminals, and no more unusual behaviors were observed when they died." Soichiro added.

"We won't progress any further unless we quickly narrow down our suspects and concentrate our efforts." Ryuzaki spoke, putting down his teacup. "I assume we have consensus in that Kira is among those who were being investigated by murdered agents. Even if we disregard the bus hijacking, the probable exchange of an envelope in the subway points to the suspects whom Penbar was following. That will be Director Kitamura's family and Chief Yagami's family."

Soichiro closed his eyes, but did not object.

"Watari will arrange the placement of surveillance cameras in the Director's house. Matsuda, Mr. Aizawa, I would like two of you to follow his wife and children when they are out of their house. Be extremely careful. Let's not repeat Penbar's tragedy."

Soichiro lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes, knowing what was about to come next.

"There's no point in placing cameras in Chief Yagami's house, however." Soichiro raised his head in surprise. Ryuzaki continued, not heeding the emotional turbulence he was generating in the chief. "Since your wife and son spends most of their time with your daughter at the hospital, you will stay there and directly observe them. Tell them you're taking time off work for Sayu until she returns home. Mr. Mogi, assist him and also trail his son and wife whenever they leave the hospital. Mr. Ukita and agent Shoko will take turns maintaining a presence at the NPA office and provide backup whenever necessary. Send your reports to me each night. I will monitor the surveillance camera and compile the data…"

The chirping of a phone interrupted him. He reached into his pocket, distaste for the pesky device evident on his face. "Yes, Watari… I see. He's here. Connect the call." He handed the phone to Soichiro. "It's from the hospital."

Soichiro's shaking hand snatched the phone. As if to calm his nerves, he stood up and began pacing the room. "Yes… Hello, Mari… Again? I thought it was supposed to last at least...Yes, I understand… Yes, of course. Yes… Would you tell her I'll come see her tonight? Thank you." He flipped the phone close. Worried eyes stared into the hunched back of their chief.

"If you need to go, Mr. Yagami," Ryuzaki's voice was not unkind.

Soichiro turned around to face the group. "No, it's all right. The catheter…" He rubbed his eyes yet again. "They just needed my consent for a routine procedure. She's okay."

He sank back in his seat, and muttered to himself. "She's okay."

……………………………………………………….

At first it was in her left arm, then it was her right groin, then to the left. Now the forked shape of the new shiny tubing peeked out of the flimsy, transparent dressing on the side of her neck like the tongue of a hungry snake. Now free from the accursed infection, the tip reclaimed its dwelling within a large vein somewhere inside her small chest, awaiting the flow of toxins that would leave her writhing in agony once again.

Sachiko had been kneeling by her side, holding Sayu's head in her hands. Their surreptitious positioning blocked the view of a long needle that plunged into her jugular. She knew Sayu probably did not feel it from local anesthetics, but she could not help flinching with each tug of the fragile skin as the surgeon guided new tubing along the needle. The doctor and his assisting nurse worked with practiced efficiency and it was over in twenty minutes. Sachiko stayed at her side until the girl's breathing evened out with sleep. She returned to her chair and fell into a fitful sleep as well.

Light snuck in, careful not to wake the two women. He had gone down to the cafeteria, more out of consideration than hunger, since he figured the surgeon would prefer some room to work without family members constantly hovering around. A cup of black coffee was all he could handle. His mind whirled with thoughts that left his stomach threatening with bile even at the smell of solid food.

He sat on the uncomfortable stool and watched his sleeping sister and her tubes. Soon a nurse would come in with an armful of IV bags and Sayu's treatment would resume. Within a few days, the excruciating pain would come, accompanied by relentless nausea. The girl would struggle with each breath of every second of her conscious moments. Her usually twinkling eyes would cloud over in a zombified state of narcosis.

She was only a young girl. She had been only beginning to blossom, the beauty of womanhood already hinted at in her delicate eyebrows and the line of her nose. But they were withering even before they had a chance to grow. What he would soon find in that bed would no longer be this girl, but an emaciated, writhing, moaning mass.

His innards twisted with seething anger. The fabric on his knees bunched in the vice grip of his hands. Why did they not see? Why were they too cowardly to recognize the inevitable? How dare they trample on the dignity and vitality of this person who deserved respect more than any other rotten human beings?

He squeezed his eyes shut. He refused to cry. She deserved better than pitiful tears.

_I have to do it. I'm the only one who can._

There was no more doubt. He stood, careful to avoid screech of the chair. He walked into the small bathroom and closed the door without bothering with the light. In complete darkness, he took out his wallet. One hand felt around the wallet for the hidden piece of paper, while the other fished for a pen in his pocket. He did not breathe as his hand guided the pen along the kanji, spelling Sayu Yagami. For the first time since he began writing names, his hand trembled as it completed the last stroke.

She was still sound asleep. He took her limp hand into his and rested his forehead as if in a prayer. The innocuous ticking of his wristwatch reverberated in his ears like thunder. He swallowed a choking breath.

'This is the last thing I can do for you, Ladybug.'

She did not stir when her heart stopped. The absence of a pulse under his finger was the only indication of her transition. Then the monitor cried a high-pitched noise, and a nurse burst in only a moment later.

Sachiko awoke, and her eyes blinked in incomprehension. Light stumbled away from the stool as the nurse pushed herself to the bed to begin chest compressions, yelling toward the nurses' station, "Call the code!"

The busy paging that followed through the overhead speaker drowned out Sachiko's hysterical cries.

"What is it? What's happening? Please, someone!"

Sachiko's wrecking body crashed into Light's numb arms. A sudden flurry of activity filled the room as staff filed in, and Light never took his eyes off the figure in the bed until an aide guided the two out of the room.

...

Soichiro continued staring at the bloodless face, the rest of the body covered by a white sheet. He reached out a trembling hand to touch the sunken cheek, and flinched at its unnatural iciness. He buried his face into his upturned palms, and took a shuddering breath.

His wife sat beside him. He felt her arms wrap around his waist, her mouth whispering a soft "Anata…"

Fresh tears welled in his eyes. Unable to hold it any longer, his shoulders began shaking as he sobbed with abandon. Hearing the gentle voice of his wife, the very same soothing voice just the way she called him countless times in the past, whenever he came home tired and weary, he could not bear it now. It would have been easier had she screamed at him, pointed an accusing finger at him, cursed him for his inattention. He would deserve them all. He would take lashing and flogging until his skin came loose, bloody, and still his self-loathing would not subside. Receiving of her tender concern now made him want to retch.

He could not raise his head to face his wife, too small in comparison with the strength that somehow enabled her to console him in spite of her own sorrow.

He choked into his palms. "Sachiko… Our Sayu is gone."

Sachiko leaned her head on his shoulder and they wept.

………………………………………………………..

Ryuk was bored.

He loved human drama, but his interest was skewed in favor of thrilling action and mystery. Ever since the spectacular showdown leading to the deaths of those pesky FBI agents, Light had not shown any interesting things to look at. Ryuk got the hint that Light had been preoccupied because of his sister, and he had to give himself a pat on the shoulder for the generosity of enduring Light's blatant deaf ear.

He had to give it to the boy. In spite of his vigilance at his sister's bedside, Light had not neglected the task of writing out the scheduled deaths of criminals, always keeping several days' slack. Even today, when the last name to be written was his own sister's.

Ryuk shook his head in amused disbelief. This boy was indeed something.

Hopeful anticipation rose in his non-beating heart. Now that the sister thing was resolved, Light would surely resume his quest with gusto as before. And surely he would not have to be so careful as if walking on eggshells around the boy. And so when they were passing through the kitchen, he ventured, "Yo, Light. Don't forget the apples."

Ryuk, in all his attentiveness as a fascinated onlooker, failed to notice the clenched fists, and only hopped in joy when the boy swiped the entire basket of apples off the table.

Light ascended the stairs in his usual calm, entered his room and closed the door. He stood with his head low, eyes hidden under his hair. Ryuk got his hands ready to catch the apple that would be flying his way.

What flew his way was not an apple, but a barrage of apples, along with the basket hurling through the air. Surprised, Ryuk twisted his skeleton in exaggerated acrobatics to avoid the volley.

"Hey, what gives?"

The shinigami flinched as a chair came flying, crashing at his feet. He paused in his contortionist's dance and stood with bulbous eyes widened and the clown's mouth twisted into a round 'o.'

"You." He flinched again at the low growl. Light stood with his trembling hands on the desk, head bent low.

"You knew her lifespan. How much longer did she have? A month? Two months? A year?" The danger in his voice was only heightened by its unnaturally low pitch. "Did it ever occur to you the simple stroke of your hand could have spared her of all the pain and suffering? You call yourself a god of death but do you even know who should die and when?"

Fists slammed down on the desk, and his next words shot out as a ferocious scream that rattled the windowpane.

"Why couldn't you, huh? You're the almighty god and all you do is look down on us like it's a fucking comedy! That's all it is to you, isn't it? You look, you laugh, it's just a fun little theater!" His voice broke. "Why her…"

A violent, agonized choking sound exploded from the boy's chest. His knees buckled, and he howled, gripping the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles blanched white. All his sense of the world crumbled around him. He only saw the abysmal darkness, stained red with the rage of his wretched soul. Searing tears poured out, and spittle ran down from his screaming mouth, but he was drowning. The boy Light Yagami was no longer, and in his place, a savage animal sprang forth, shattering the human shell into pieces.

His exhausted body collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. His shoulders convulsed with hitching breaths.

Speechless Ryuk looked on, as Light clambered up to his feet. He staggered to the thrown chair, righted it, and slumped onto it. Sapped of all strength, his limp arms hung out to the sides, and his chin rested on his chest. He sat unmoving, like a rag-doll draped on a chair.

A small chuckle rose from his throat. His shoulders now shook with a different reason, as the deranged giggle grew in volume into a maniacal laugh. His head lolled back, mouth wide open in hysteria, moist streaks glistening on his cheeks. He declared between his laughing fits, "That's fine. That's just fine."

An abrupt silence followed. The animal snapped its gaze onto Ryuk. The knife-edge gleam in his eyes froze even the most apathetic of the gods of death.

"If you deities won't do the right thing, then _I will_."

Outside in an alley, an inconspicuous car with darkened windows was parked. Within, Mogi lowered his binoculars with a sigh. He had seen the flying fruits and furniture. And the boy's breakdown.

He shook his head in pity.

……………………………………………………

Ryuzaki was getting restless. He paused his hand over the keyboard and pushed the laptop away. He climbed out of the chair with the slow deliberateness of an old man. Hands buried in his pockets, he crossed the distance to the window, his skillful feet avoiding the paper stacks strewn about on the floor.

He looked down on metropolitan Tokyo in slumber, the diminished number of city lights indicating the time of the night. The inside was dark enough so that his own reflection was only a faint ghost. For the moment, he allowed himself to feel the tug within. He was not a stranger to a devastating loss. He could empathize, but he was not here to be a friend. He was here to solve a crime.

Three days had passed since Sayu Yagami's death. No progress whatsoever, he thought with a frown. The surveillance of Kitamura's household had continued, Matsuda and Aizawa alternating with other members so that each one of them could assist with the Yagami family in any way they could. He had found nothing that grabbed his attention and was not surprised. His suspicion of Light Yagami was more than a hunch.

Could he do it? Was Light Yagami capable of carrying out Kira's mission even during the stressful time of his sister's illness… and death? He recalled the handsome face of the teenager on the documents he had collected. The boy never showed his teeth in the carefully choreographed smiles. There was a chilling quality in his chiseled beauty.

His gut feeling told him the boy was capable. If he could approach him directly and observe his behavior, he would have a definite profile.

One thing that puzzled him was Light's unrestrained behavior on the day Sayu died. He had suspected Light's vigilance at the hospital to be something of an act. If it were, however, he would have shown a reaction in some way at the moment of her death, which would seem most natural to any observer. He had remained stoic according to the hospital staff, and the emotional outburst had occurred only in the solitude of his room. Did he truly love his sister? If Ryuzaki's picture of the boy were correct, what kind of love would such a person exhibit?

He took a sharp intake of breath as a sudden thought came to him. He flipped open his phone and dialed.

"_What is it, Ryuzaki?_" answered the calm voice, even though it had an underlying threat of "How dare you disturb me before coffee?"

"I need you to dig more medical records. Everything the hospital has on Sayu Yagami. Not just doctors', but nurses' notes, therapists', all the labs and diagnostics. Not just the recent ones but every hospitalization in the past."

"_You called me at this hour to ask me that? Do you have any idea what time it is? It's three in the morning for god's sake. Just when do you sleep anyway?_"

He discovered another thing. Misora had a tendency to babble like a schoolgirl when groggy. He ignored her protest and continued.

"Also, when you attend the funeral tomorrow…"

"_That will be today, Ryuzaki, for those of us who actually keep the time of the day_."

"I want you to observe Light Yagami with utmost care. Every gesture, every word."

"_Is that all?_"

"Yes."

The phone disconnected without a farewell.

…………………………………………………

**AN: I'm making a conscious effort to avoid Japanese expressions, so that it doesn't become a habit, but I just had to use **_**anata**_**. I mulled over the possible English equivalents but couldn't think of any that carries the same warmth and respect **_**anata**_** conveys (in that particular context.) Honey? Sweetie? Husband?... bleh.**

...

-- Omake –

Naomi Misora sat across the table in her trademark posture of demure, impeccable politeness, hands clasped together on top of her pressed knees, as L bombarded her with questions designed to weed out any security compromises.

She answered without paying much attention, as her attention was elsewhere. While her mind vaguely heard and processed his questions, her disbelieving eyes roamed over this ape-like creature, who could not have been barely out of his twenties.

Bare, restless toes rubbing each other. Nimble tongue licking strawberry syrup off his fingers with a loud slurp. Tangled hair that looked like a bird attempted to make a nest out of and gave up.

'This is L… _The _L.' She swallowed the rising panic. 'I offered myself up to this… slob?'

...

-- Preview Chapter 2. Impasse –

"Checkmate."

"You play dirty, Ryuga."

"Who said anything about playing clean? Kira doesn't play clean."

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not Kira."

"Sure you aren't."

"I'm telling you I'm not!"

"Okay."

"Good."

"…"

"Stop looking at me like that!"

"What?"

"Grrr…"


End file.
